


if you're so good let me take you for a ride

by idleteen



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bad Boy Zayn, Cheerleader Niall, F/M, Genderswap, Innocent Niall, girl!Harry, girl!Niall, yeah idk about this either, zayn malik smut, ziall fluff, ziall smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-16
Updated: 2013-11-16
Packaged: 2018-01-01 18:57:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1047423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idleteen/pseuds/idleteen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Perhaps it was a bit typical—somewhere inside, Niall thought dimly that the older boy took all of the girls here to make out. And—well, she’d rather not think about that, honestly, because she was already prepared to kiss him and they had only been stalled for fifteen minutes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	if you're so good let me take you for a ride

**Author's Note:**

> for my friend who wanted cheerleader Niall and bad boy Zayn who can't keep his hands off of her...hope you like it x

The wind was particularly nippy for October. It stung the bare skin of Niall’s legs as it swept in between the bleachers and the football field where she was standing. Her skirt fluttered dangerously high up her thighs and she pushed it down irately, trying not to think of the three boys who had already complimented her on the short piece of fabric. She had only smiled and complained about being hungry enough for them to bugger off; sighing once they were heading the opposite direction.

And she wasn’t a bitch—really, she wasn’t. She just wasn’t interested in the pile of football players who constantly stared at her as if they were dying men in the desert and she was their last meal. It was irritating, to say the least. They obviously hadn’t noticed the way the curl in her ponytail was a little flatter than the other girls’, or the fact that her makeup was never quite on point. All they saw was a uniform and the conventional idea that football players were supposed to date cheerleaders. And, wow, how narrow-minded.

Then again, it might have just been _her_. She wasn’t quite as graceful as the others and had a knack for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. Maybe that’s why the idea of stereotypes pissed her off so thoroughly—she was a bit of a contradiction, herself. And, even though it didn’t make sense and her friends told her it was a bad idea, she was much more interested in the boy with the leather jacket—the one hanging around the edge of the bleachers, chain-smoking to pass the time.

Niall knew that the boy had only shown up for her. And she didn’t mean to sound conceited in thinking that; it was simply a fact of _the Zayn and Niall universe_. It was newly established and barely inhabited by any proper feelings yet, but _hey_. The raven-haired boy was not a fan of high school football games—just like he wasn’t a fan of pep rallies or team activities, for that matter—but he did love to see Niall in her uniform. Again, _the uniform_. It was red and white and consisted of nothing more than a typical skirt and an oddly shaped top (somewhere between a t-shirt and a tank top, Niall wasn’t too sure). And, despite the fact that she sometimes hated the thing, she was more happy than not. So long as she was comfortable and wasn’t being forced to wear loads and loads of makeup, it didn’t much matter what she was wearing.

“Niall,” an irritated voice sounded from beside her.

The blonde turned to find her best friend Harry staring at her— _glaring_ was a more accurate word, on second thought. “Yeah?”

Harry rolled her big green eyes and tugged Niall by her flimsy white sweater until she was standing with the rest of the squad. “I think you’re forgetting why you’re here.”

Niall shook her head, “No...well...what’d you mean?”

“Ahem,” the brunette cleared her throat and motioned to the football game, “they’ve scored or touched-down or whatever, like, three times now and you haven’t even flinched. You’re supposed to be cheering—or at least smiling, that’d be alright too, at the _very least_.”

“Oh,” Niall blushed and took the frilly little pompoms her friend handed her, spinning one around in her hand without much concentration, “Right. Just got a little...sidetracked.”

Harry rolled her eyes, “Oh please, you’ve been mentally fucking that Zayn guy for the past ten minutes.”

Niall’s cheeks tinged even pinker at her friend’s words but, ultimately, she laughed, “Whatever.”

“ _Whatever_ ,” Harry mimicked her, trying to sound just as high-pitched and Irish as the blonde and failing miserably. “You’re not even supposed to be talking to him—that’s what your dad said, _remember_?”

Niall hit her with her pompom and rolled her eyes, “Oh, he’s just being over-protective—doesn’t really mean it.”

“Pretty sure he does, actually.”

“Nope.”

“Yes.” Harry glanced over her friends shoulder and caught a glimpse of the raven-haired boy; all dark features and a leather jacket and a fag hanging out of his mouth, “It’s the whole bad-boy thing he’s got going on—it’s really throwing your dad off.”

Niall groaned and stomped her foot as if it would do any good, “Are you quite finished?” And Harry continued to drone on and on about how she can’t make her shut up— _she was only being honest_. Niall tuned her out and stared back at Zayn, biting her lip when he smiled at her. And her lungs fluttered and her heart beat sideways and— _yeah_ , okay, maybe Harry was onto something.

...

Niall placed herself directly in front of Zayn, deliberately cornering him against the bleachers as the crowds of sorry and ecstatic fans filed out. She tucked her pompoms behind her back and grinned up at him—wide blue eyes and thin pink lips.

“Hi,” she greeted him, overtly friendly as usual.

“Hi,” he said back, smiling because, honestly, he really couldn’t help it.

“So, what’d you think?”

“Of what?”

Niall frowned, “Of our routines.”

“Oh,” Zayn fumbled, smiling sheepishly, “I’m sorry. They were great.”

Niall huffed, “you don’t have to lie, you know. You’re shit at it.”

The raven-haired boy sighed, “’m not lying, I just—I don’t know what I'm talking about. This isn’t exactly my area of expertise.” A moment ensued before—“You looked great though; cute, as usual.” And he grabbed her hip, fitting it so perfectly in his large hand, and tugged her closer and Niall grinned.

“You like?” and she waved around her pompom with a glimmer of skill.

“Mm hmm,” Zayn hummed, idly rubbing circles into the exposed skin beneath the hem of her shirt, “I like.”

“Good,” Niall grinned triumphantly and took a step closer, leaning forward to set a soft kiss to the older boy’s lips. Zayn was always surprised by her kisses—he was surprised by any display of public affection he received, honestly, and the younger girl was always trying to figure out _why_. _Yeah_ , they weren’t exactly dating, but. Well, it was close enough, in Niall’s mind.

Nonetheless, Zayn kissed her back. It was slow and lazy at first but before long he was licking over her lips and into her mouth, giving her a proper kiss that tasted like cigarettes. There were people nearby but he didn’t much care—neither did Niall. It was kind of exciting for her, as much as she hated to admit it. She couldn’t exactly pinpoint what it was—perhaps the idea of getting caught or, more specifically, getting caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to. And she was a good girl— _really_ , she was.

Zayn’s hands lingered around her waist, pressing his thumbs into her hips and pulling her closer. Niall whined into his mouth when he pressed a little too hard and he kissed her around it, running his finger along the waist of her skirt and smirking when she grabbed onto his jacket in response.

“Zayn,” she said, nipping at his bottom lip before pulling away to look at him. She grinned and it kind of took away from her upcoming words, “Stop it.”

He shrugged and fiddled with one of the small buttons on her sweater, “Why? You wanna go somewhere else?” And he pushed himself off of the wall and caught her hands, rubbing circles into the her palms the way he always did before she gave him what he wanted.

Niall sighed and looked like she was about to give in before—“No. Not tonight.”

Zayn frowned and kissed her lips, murmuring a quiet _please_.

Niall groaned but, ultimately, shook her head, “No Zayn.” She sighed, “I want you take me out on a proper date.”

The raven-haired boy looked surprised and not-so-casually bit his lip, “What?”

The Irish girl rolled her eyes, “Oh come on, don’t act like I asked you to help me hide a body or something—I’m talking about a date for fuck’s sake.” And there was the less-graceful side of her.

Zayn laughed but ran his fingers through his hair uneasily, as if she really had just confided in him about a murder. “Um, yeah, alright.”

“ _Alright_?”

Zayn nodded and Niall rolled her eyes, “Wow, how romantic, Zayn, you’re really sweeping me off my feet here.”

The older boy groaned, “Fine. I’m sorry. Niall, will you let me take you out on a _proper_ date? I’d really love to if you’d let me.”

Niall grinned, “Well, I’ll have to think about it.”

“You’re an asshole.”

She laughed, “Fair enough. And I guess I’ll go out with you, seeing as you asked and all.” Zayn rolled his eyes but hugged her anyway, trying not to smile when she squeezed back as tight as she could.

...

Niall’s father did not like Zayn. In fact, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that Bobby Horan _hated_ Zayn Malik. And that was a bit of a problem, see, because Niall was rather smitten by the boy and her dad was kind of one of her best friends. It was her own fault though, honestly, because if she said she thought inviting the raven-haired boy over when her dad wasn’t home was a _good_ idea...well, she’d most definitely be lying. And she blamed herself and her irritating inability to resist what she wanted for the aforementioned hatred—really, she did.

However, from her dad’s perspective, it wasn’t his darling daughter’s fault whatsoever. Zayn Malik was the one with his hand up her shirt, after all—and on _his_ lounge chair, of all the places in the entire house. And, yeah, Niall gets it.

So her dad labeled Zayn Malik as Trouble and made it very clear— _painfully_ clear—that she was to stay away from him. If he so much as _looked_ at her the wrong way—well, he didn’t have much of a threat but, point taken.  And so Niall being Niall decided that it would be a good idea to keep seeing Zayn anyway just...not where her father could see them. It wasn’t sneaking around though— _absolutely not_. Even if Zayn _did_ have to pick her up from cheer practise rather than at home in order to avoid her father and even if Niall _did_ tell her dad that she was spending the night at Harry’s— _it wasn’t sneaking around_.

“Looks like your ride is here,” Harry mentioned, eyes trained off the side of the field where they could see Zayn’s car parked in the lot. The curly-haired girl shook her head and grinned, “Your dad’s gonna murder him.” She laughed hysterically until she had fallen out of her stretch and was nearly face-down on the grass.

Niall rolled her eyes, “That’s not funny Harry, relax,” and she nudged her friend with her shoe and tried not to laugh herself.

“It’s hilarious, actually,” Harry retorted, smiling brilliantly, “Because you’re a goody-two-shoes who’s obsessed with football and nachos and not curling your hair right and he’s _Zayn Malik_. And you’re sneaking around with him...amazing.”

Niall tugged at her hair self-consciously and glared, “We’re not sneaking around, Harry, fuck off.”

“Whatever you say, Niall,” she shrugged, grinning innocently as if she had never been guilty of a terrible thing in her entire life—which, okay, _come on_.

“Whatever,” Niall said, and she’d have sworn it was her catchphrase if the same three-syllable word didn’t belong to ninety percent of the teenage population already. “I better go now.”

And she was already headed in the direction of the lot when her friend called after her, “Are you sure about this?”

Niall rolled her eyes, “Relax, Harry, you sound like my dad.”

“Well... _whatever_ , have fun.”

...

Zayn smiled when Niall climbed into the car and tightened his grip on the steering wheel—as if he hadn’t let go since he pulled into the lot which, considering the way his muscled were tensed and his jaw was clenched, wasn’t exactly implausible. The worn down seats smelled like leather and smoke and the blonde girl’s sweet scent was a bit of a sharp contrast. She was _girly_ and _clean_ and frilly skirts that matched her mess of eyelashes. Zayn rather liked her.

“Is that what you’re wearing?” he asked curiously, eyes raking over the girl’s cheer uniform.

Niall frowned, “Yeah. Is that alright? I mean, was I supposed to wear something else?”

Zayn shook his head immediately, mumbling a quick “ _No_. I mean, you look—you look good, Niall. Really good.” And he had to adjust his position because _god_ , it was ridiculous what that uniform did to him. But. No, maybe it was just _Niall_. After all, she was the only cheerleader Zayn had ever gone out with—the only one he had ever even _considered_ going out with. And he kind of had the feeling that he was in the wrong here—like he shouldn’t be sneaking around with Niall like this which, okay, _yeah_ that was a given. She was so sweet and so soft and so funny and basically the female embodiment of everything he was _not_.

The little blonde grinned and leaned over the console to give him a kiss on the cheek, “You’re not too bad yourself.” And his skin tingled slightly at the contact and he tried to ignore the implications.

They had just started driving and Niall was already curious—which, really, was expected. “So, where are we going?”

“Um,” Zayn pushed his hand through his hair, “Where did you want to go?”

Niall sighed and gave him a disapproving stare, “You were supposed to have figured that out already.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

But the blonde only grinned, “Nah, don’t be. It doesn’t much matter—I’m pretty hungry if you want to go get something to eat?”

And Zayn sighed in relief because he was so shitty at this but she was so easy to please, “Yeah babe, that sounds good.”

...

Zayn was quiet, and that made the whole thing a bit of a mess, really. Dating just...wasn’t his thing. And _god_ , that sounded so painfully stereotypical of him to say and perhaps that’s because it _was_. He had never asked Niall on a proper date before because he just... _didn’t_. Zayn Malik did not date people—he spent time with people, sure, but he didn’t _date_.

So when Niall started asking questions he started giving answers and he figured it was a bit one-sided, which wasn’t fair, really. The blonde didn’t seem to mind, however—either that or she simply didn’t consider the fact that she was the one taking Zayn on a date here and not the other way around. She laughed and smiled and happily made her way through her burger, constantly mentioning how cute he was on every second bite which— _okay_. He was pretty sure that _was_ the other way around.

And when Niall wanted a milkshake of course the older boy ordered one for her. It wasn’t really a question, to be completely honest. Zayn was oddly set on pleasing the pretty girl and he worried that they’d eventually be two moons in the same orbit—or, his avoidant way of describing Zayn and Niall as _Zayn and Niall_. But that was still a little (a lot) terrifying, so he tried not to think about it.

The drive home had Niall chewing on her lip. Not biting— _chewing_ , and it was all a little worrisome for Zayn and he found himself asking her what was wrong. Apparently, Niall didn’t want to go home.

“Well...” Zayn thought, eyes impulsively raking over the blonde’s body which, _okay Zayn_. “What do you want to do then?”

Niall shrugged and rested her elbow on the console, “Dunno. We could just drive around for a bit, if you’d like.”

“You’re not hard to please.”

“Only because I like you,” she flashed him a grin before laughing and leaning over to give him a kiss wherever she could reach which, with her small size, was only his bicep. And, wow, he kind of had nice muscles now that she was paying attention—all long and lean and strong. It was nice. Zayn was nice.

...

It was eleven at night and Niall’s dad would have killed her if she wasn’t _staying at Harry’s_. And she felt guilty for lying—really, she did, but Zayn spoke so softly about the stars and she couldn’t bring herself to regret her decision. They were parked on a back road just outside of town—the one that overlooked the neighbouring city and the distant lights and it was all rather romantic, when Niall thought about.

Perhaps it was a bit typical—somewhere inside, Niall thought dimly that the older boy took all of the girls here to make out. And—well, she’d rather not think about that, honestly, because she was already prepared to kiss him and they had only been stalled for fifteen minutes.

Nonetheless, Niall had never been a patient person. She smiled at Zayn who smiled at her and then she was leaning over the console. The older boy laughed quietly and closed the distance that she couldn’t manage—pressing their lips together and kissing her in earnest, his hand coming up to gently brush her hair away and cup her cheek.

“So,” he murmured against her skin, brushing their lips together lightly, “Was this...alright then?”

Niall nodded and continued to kiss him, breaking away momentarily to whisper, “Yeah,” she grinned and it was kind of beautiful, “It was... _perfect_.”

“ _Perfect?_ ” and he almost sounded scared.

Niall rolled her eyes and hit him in the arm, “Don’t sound like I asked you to marry me, it was a good date, okay?”

Zayn smiled and kissed her again, holding her chin between his thumb and forefinger to keep her still. She had a habit of constantly squirming around. She was loud where Zayn was quiet and hyper where he was calm. And he tried to remember the definition of a paradox but ultimately decided that it just didn’t fit.

Before long, Zayn was leaning embarrassingly far over the console and Niall was trying to reach him with a little too much desperation. When it got uncomfortable, the blonde pulled away and groaned. She stared at Zayn in longing and frustration before sighing, “Fuck it,” and climbing over the bloody box in the middle—straddling the dark-haired boy’s lap in the driver’s seat.

From this position, she could give Zayn a proper kiss. Her hands were quickly tangled in his hair and _god_ , she had been wanting to do this all night.

“Mm,” Zayn hummed, dropping his hands to her hips and giving them a gentle squeeze, “Little more comfortable.”

Niall laughed, “A little,” before reattaching their mouths gently, holding onto his shoulders to pull herself closer. Niall had a habit of kissing with a little too much desperation and Zayn had a habit of touching. He couldn’t keep her hands off of her, really, and was already fiddling with the buttons on her sweater. Niall didn’t mind though, smiling into the kiss and giggling when Zayn pushed the material away and moved his mouth to her neck; sucking gently at a mark he had given her a few days before.

Niall whined quietly and tilted her head to the side, giving him more space—and the older boy knew how much she loved this. It was always the same thing; Zayn would bite and suck at her neck and collarbone, Niall would make sounds that were too loud to escape her little body _and he hadn’t even done anything to her yet._ Zayn could only imagine what the blonde would be like with his tongue or his fingers inside of her. He figured she’d be a moaning, crying mess and the very thought of the image made his cock twitch in his trousers.

“Zayn,” Niall breathed out shallowly as he bit her skin particularly hard, “Mm.”

The dark-haired boy wrapped his hands firmly around her back, spreading his fingers across the expanse of her uniform and pulling her closer. He nipped gently at her collarbone before licking over it with his tongue, smirking slightly when she whined again. And it was expected—the way his fingers slipped beneath the tight, clinging fabric her shirt. They both saw it coming and Niall was the first to pull away, lifting her arms as best she could in the car and letting Zayn take her top off. And _wow_ , she was beautiful—smooth pale skin and the odd patch of freckles.

Niall blushed and pressed her lips together, _feeling_ the dark-haired boy’s gaze and becoming unsure of what to do with her hands. It was nerve-racking—letting Zayn actually _see_ her small purple bra and the way it hugged her body. Her breasts had never been particularly big and she wondered if he was used to it being the other way other way around.

Zayn only smiled at her though, kissing the flat expanse of skin in the middle of her chest and murmuring how pretty she was. And Niall might have blushed even pinker—it was too dark to tell. Either way, the dark-haired boy didn’t seem to notice. He quickly went back to marking her skin and she figured she was already a canvas of red, forming bruises and teeth marks. She probably have to wear a scarf, but. _Oh_ , Zayn sucked at the exposed skin of her breast and _wow_ , she hadn’t realized how sensitive she was there. Her body rutted forward without her permission, grinding down against the slight bulge in the boy’s pants which— _wait_.

Zayn gasped and moaned shallowly—mouth still hot and wet against her skin. Niall’s heart rate picked up and she realized she really didn’t know what she was doing. She didn’t _exactly_ know what to do about the developing situation in the boy’s pants and she was rather terrified to try. But then the dark-haired boy nipped gently at her chest again and she couldn’t help the way her body moved against his, _honestly_.

He moaned quietly and looked up at her, catching the obvious nervousness in her blue eyes and kissing her. Zayn’s large hand wrapped around hers and brought it closer to him, much to her confusion. “’S okay,” he assured her, nodding until she was nodding back. He carried on with bringing her hand to his body, ultimately placing it to rest on the growing bulge in his pants. He pressed her delicate fingers firmly against himself, letting out a quick moan that made Niall gasp. She assumed it was a good sound—that something felt right, but. Well.

“Just”—he pressed down on her hand again, moving it slightly until the motion was rhythmic and she was a bit more comfortable, “Like that, yeah?”

Niall nodded slowly, watching Zayn carefully as he removed his hand from hers and she touched him all on her own. She was sure she wasn’t _good_ at it and that her cheeks were as red as they ever had been before, but the dark-haired boy still seemed to be enjoying it. He let out low, shallow moans every once in a while and kissed her—her lips, her jaw, her neck. She continued palming Zayn through the thick, restricting material of his trousers before wondering what she should do next—was there some sort of protocol, or? God, she was terrible at this. It was borderline embarrassing.

Zayn only kissed her though, seemingly not expecting her to do much more than she already was. And it was a bit of a surprise—Niall gasped and her eyes went wide—when his hand slid underneath her skirt. He brushed his fingers over the insides of her thighs until she pulled back, looking nervous. “Zayn,” she breathed, swallowing.

“It’s okay,” he assured her again, sincerely. He pushed his fingers under her skirt again, running them smoothly over her thighs and settling in-between. He gently rubbed the insides of her legs, making her squirm and shake her head.

“Zayn, I”—she gasped when a finger brushed over her panties which, if she could remember, were embarrassingly frilly and pink.

Zayn pulled away only slightly and kissed her mouth, biting and tugging at her bottom lip. It wasn’t long, however, before his hand travelled back up—his finger swiping a little more firmly across her panties. Niall moaned without really realizing it and was only louder when the dark-haired boy began rubbing her clit through the thin, damp material. And she had never really felt like that before—never had someone else’s fingers there before and it was all a bit overwhelming.

Zayn continued to apply pressure until Niall was rocking desperately against his fingers which, obviously, weren’t doing enough for her anymore. He pulled away and Niall whined, grinding down against nothing and biting longingly at her lip.

“Move over there, yeah?” Zayn said, motioning to the passenger seat and prompting her to sit up with a hand on her bum.

Niall didn’t completely understand but was more than willing to oblige, climbing clumsily over the console and swearing when she hit her head on the roof. Once she was settled, Zayn told her to put the seat back and she did—reclining the thing and pushing it back as far as it would go.

Zayn nodded, “Good girl,” and climbed over the console himself, settling awkwardly in the small space in front of the seat. He pushed Niall’s legs apart and positioned himself in-between, giving himself more room and better access. The blonde whined, wriggling her hips, and touched her chest frantically; running her fingers over her chest and down her stomach, stopping at the edge of her skirt before slipping underneath.

Zayn was quick to slap her hand away and Niall only whined, “Please, Zayn? Please.”

“Please what?”

“I-I don’t know,” Niall sputtered.

The dark-haired boy rubbed her thigh soothingly, “It’s okay, Ni. Just be a good girl and I’ll take care of you, alright?”

Niall nodded, “Alright.”

Zayn leaned up and over her, kissing her lips quickly before bringing his hands to the waist of her skirt. He hiked it high up her hips until it wasn’t covering much of anything before returning to the place between her legs. His fingers were warm when they hooked around the thin, lacy edge of her panties—pulling them down her thighs and repositioning her legs slightly so that he could take them off. Niall whined and Zayn kissed the insides of her thighs. And it was supposed to be soothing but the blonde was barely aware of what he was about to do. She had never had another person’s finger on her, let alone their mouth and she wasn’t sure she could handle it.

“You gotta stay still, babe,” Zayn told her, pressing her hip into the leather seat, “Perfect. Just like that.”

He leaned in and breathed over her clit—purposefully _blew_ on it, and Niall shivered and her heart beat skyrocketed. And she thought that was a lot—really, she did, and she whimpered pathetically like she had never gotten off before. But when Zayn’s tongue finally made contact with her, she nearly cried. He licked at her softly, at first; trying to take it slow even though Niall was needy as hell. It was gentle—kitten licks to her clit—and a sharp contrast to the way his fingers dug into her thighs, almost like he was trying to restrain himself. Almost like there was nothing more he wanted than to eat her out which, _wow_ , Niall was nearly there already.

Zayn then proceeded to fit his mouth around her clit, sucking at it tenderly and rubbing circles into the bruises his fingers her leaving. He flicked his tongue out and dragged it in slow circles, pushing into the right spot every time. Niall cried out—obscenely loud, of course—and tangled her fingers in Zayn’s hair, unsure of what else to do with them. The dark-haired boy groaned lowly at the sensation and Niall felt it everywhere—from her core all the way up her spine. Zayn rubbed desperately against the seat for a moment, trying to hold off on touching himself until Niall had come.

When he pulled away, the blonde thought she was going to die— _honestly_ die, and she figured it’d be a bit hilarious, wouldn’t it? Maybe not. Her breathing picked up and before she knew it she was begging,” Please Zayn, please don’t stop.”

“Shh,” he hushed her, biting gently at her inner thigh, “Keeping being a good girl—my good little girl.” And Niall wanted to be good—she wanted to be good and pretty and sweet for Zayn. So she kept as still as she could and tried to be patient—almost crying tears of joy when his fingers returned to her. He didn’t waste time—finding her clit and gently pressing a finger inside, stopping when the blonde cried out and pushing in further when she told him to. Once his finger was all the way inside and Niall was panting, he curled it appropriately, aiming to hit that spot. He pulled his finger out and stuck it back in quickly—fucking her with his digit and adjusting each time until he finally found it. And Niall practically screamed, of course—and she was fucking loud. Or perhaps it just seemed louder than it was, considering they were in a car and all.

When Zayn could tell that Niall that close, he brought his mouth back, dipping his tongue in alongside and finger and licking at her sweetly. The blonde rocked back desperately, moaning and whimpering and _fuck_ , Zayn was close and he barely had any friction to help him out.

“ _Zayn_ ,” Niall cried warningly, rutting forward and arching her back. Zayn quickened the pace until Niall was coming hard; crying and throwing an arm over her eyes. He worked her through it—finger-fucking her until she came down from her high and it was beginning to hurt. Zayn pulled out slowly and Niall let out a shaky breath, finally calming down.

“You good?” Zayn asked quietly, rubbing small circles into her hip and letting his eyes wander u her body to look her in the eyes,

She smiled and nodded, “Yes. _Fuck_.” And Zayn couldn’t take it anymore—he unbuttoned his trousers and stuck his hand down, grabbing his cock and finally giving it some attention. It wouldn’t have taken much, really, but he came even faster when Niall helped—scooting towards him and placing her hand on top of his, adding some much-needed friction. She kissed his mouth and bit his lip until he was coming, moaning into her mouth and leaning against her once he was spent.

And neither of them saw the next bit coming. They should have, considering the place was practically abandoned and they could have heard a car coming from a mile away. But they were both too busy cleaning up—Niall pulled her shirt over her head and her skirt back down where it belonged. Zayn adjusted himself as best as he could and he was kissing her again, just for the hell of it.

That’s about the time someone knocked on the car window. And yeah, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that Bobby Horan hated Zayn Malik. Niall had never been a good liar, had she?


End file.
